


Counting Stars

by DruidChild06



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, First Love, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Harm, canon-compliant character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 17:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18878086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruidChild06/pseuds/DruidChild06
Summary: Hermione Granger is definitely in love with Ginny Weasley. But that's wrong, right?





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago when I was first struggling with the realisation that I was gay. I decided to publish it in case it makes others feel less alone with their struggles.

_"I'm Hermione Jean Granger. I'm starting at Hogwarts today, are you going to Hogwarts, too?"_

_Ginevra Weasley, usually known as Ginny, looked up from trying to wake the family owl from what could potentially be either a deep sleep, or a coma. She wasn't sure what to say to this pronouncement. "Why did you tell me your middle name?" was all that she could come up with. And then, "Not this year, next year. I'm only ten." All together, it didn't make a lot of sense, but the older girl seemed to understand what she meant._

_"That's a shame. When you come next year, please come and say hello to me," she said, then added anxiously, "Isn't one supposed to tell people one's middle name when one meets them?"_

_Ginny shook her head, abandoning the owl and standing up. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her combat trousers and stared curiously at the girl in front of her. Brown skin and a bush of dark hair accentuated two very white, very protuberant front teeth. Ginny knew a lot of the magical families in Britain, but she didn't recognise Hermione; she must be a muggle._

_"Are your parents non-magical?" Ginny asked, and Hermione replied in the same anxious tone she'd used before, "Yes. Will it matter? Only I do hope I'm not behind already!"_

_"It doesn't matter," assured Ginny, "we know heaps of non-magic families with magic kids. Dad loves muggles. I'm Ginny, by the way."_

_Hermione nodded, appearing unconvinced, then turned her head as a tall woman with the same curly hair called out to her "Her-mio-ne!" "I have to go. Thank you for talking. Goodbye!" Hermione flashed a quick, bright smile, then took off down the station platform towards her parents. Ginny wished suddenly that she wouldn't go, but it was too late - the girl was gone._

_Ginny sighed loudly - it seemed like everyone got to go to Hogwarts except her; it wasn't fair. She knelt back down on the platform, preparing to give mouth-to-mouth to the owl and -_

 

Ginny's reverie is disturbed by the fourteen year old version of the eleven year old in the memory. Hermione pushes through the crowd, clutching handfuls of pink dress robe and...sobbing? Ginny looks around for her date, Neville Longbottom, who'd gone to get them both drinks, but the crowd is large and noisy and the punchline is miles long: it'll take her forever to get to Neville and tell him where she's gone. She'll just go and check on Hermione, then be back before he even knows she's missing.

Faded red dress robes swinging loosely, Ginny elbows her way to the main staircase; she catches a glimpse of Hermione, face distorted by tears, shouting something at Ron, before running away and out of sight. Ginny takes the stairs two at a time (avoiding the trick step); as she runs, she reflects on her friendship with Hermione since that day on the train platform.

_It was Ginny's first day, the day of her sorting, and she nervously scanned the crowds at the Gryffindor table, searching for a familiar face. She bit her lip - Ron didn't seem to be there; neither did Harry Potter, that marvellous boy with his black hair and lightning scar who she'd been so excited to see again. But there was the girl from the station platform - Hermione Jean Granger; Ron had spoken about a Hermione in his (very brief) letters, but for some reason Ginny hadn't connected the names. Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table next to Ginny's twin brothers Fred and George; she was sitting very tall and straight, black robes unstained and bright, and the candlelight bounced off her, giving her a haloed appearance._

_Ginny was so busy staring that she almost forgot to move down the line of first years until somebody pushed her from behind. Ginny felt, suddenly, very afraid - what if she didn't get into Gryffindor? What if she was sorted into Slytherin or Hufflepuff? Mum and Dad would be upset, the twins would tease her, Ron would be a pig, Percy would be shocked - and Ginny would never get to sit next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table. I must get into Gryffindor, I must, I must, Ginny thought as her name was called and she stepped forward to the sorting stool, eyes on the ground._

_Placed on her head, the Sorting Hat laughed softly as though it could hear her thoughts. "Oh, you're a brave one, little girl. The last of the Weasleys are you?" it said as Ginny's insides churned. "Yes, very brave...but then, you'll need to be. You'll do well in - GRYFFINDOR!"_

_And Ginny was clapped and cheered for and she knew that Mum and Dad would be so pleased, and Percy was shaking her hand, which was nice if slightly ridiculous, and the twins were clapping her on the back, which was also nice, if very suspicious. But Ginny had eyes only for the dark girl who, leaning earnestly over the table said, "Oh, you're Ginny, Ron's sister! I'm so glad you're in Gryffindor."_

This memory has taken Ginny all the way to the Gryffindor common room. In her haste, normally careful Hermione has left the door open and this uncharacteristic oversight alarms Ginny, who moves faster.

Apart from her sorting, Ginny prefers not to think about her first year - being possessed by a Dark Lord will do that to you, she thinks wryly. In her second and third years, Ginny has grown closer to Ron, Hermione, and Harry Potter, although always one step behind. Now, Hermione is tutoring Ginny in Herbology and History of Magic (her worst subjects), and they spend several hours a week in musty corners of the library reading up on wizard conventions and goblin rebellions. Hermione keeps a notebook full of observations on magical rebellions and revolutions - 'for future reference,' she says.

_Ginny sighed loudly and pushed her textbook away from her with the flat of her hand, annoyed by the incomprehensible page in front of her. What was it trying to tell her? To Ginny, it looked like several paragraphs of thick black, knotted text, inpenetrable and unreadable. But she just had to get through this chapter tonight, because her essay on water weeds was due the day after tomorrow - two whole feet of parchment._

_Hermione, sitting by the fire with her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook propped on her knees, looked up at Ginny's sigh of annoyance and smiled at her. "Everything alright?" she asked, and Ginny was further annoyed by the feeling of tears pricking the back of her eyes. She couldn't fail this essay, she just couldn't, she'd failed the last one, and what if she had to repeat this year's Herbology? History of Magic was just as bad, and although Ginny was excelling in her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes with Professor Moody, and even her Potions classes, she hated falling behind in anything._

_"I don't understand this water weeds stuff," Ginny told Hermione, who jumped up and came over to Ginny's desk. Hermione leaned over the desk, frizzy ponytail flopping to the side. She tutted._

_"It's ridiculous how they've written it. All it's trying to say is that there are seventeen different classifications of water weeds, and what they are. Oh, and the first person to classify water weeds was Doctor Ambrosious Foster in his Gloucester experiments with water weeds and flooding. They do make it sound so complicated."_

_"Really?" the tears disappeared and Ginny began to feel hopeful for the essay again. She glanced up at Hermione, who was leaning over the textbook, still scanning the pages. "Would you help me?" Ginny asked._

_Hermione nodded. "If you like. I do remember all this from last year." She pulled out the chair beside Ginny's and sat down, pulling a spare piece of Ginny's parchment towards her and lifting Ginny's quill pen. "Now, read that page again, and see if you can find all seventeen of the different classifications of water weeds they've mentioned. We'll write them down so you'll remember."_

Although Ginny hasn't spent much time in Hermione's dormitory, her friend's bed is immediately obvious because of the muffled sobbing emanating from behind the closed bed curtains. Ginny eases the curtains apart and climbs up onto the high four poster bed, where Hermione looks up; she seems unsurprised by Ginny's appearance, managing only, "Ginny," through a sob.

"The one and only!" Ginny's voice is determinetdly bright. Shutting the bed curtains behind her, Ginny gently pushes Hermione's shoulders up so that she is sitting straight again. She eases herself onto the stark white pillow beside Hermione, who looks loose and empty sitting alone several inches away, arms wrapped tight around herself in a gesture of self comfort. Cautiously, Ginny touches one of Hermione's hands. Hermione unfolds her arms and grasps it like a lifeline. For some reason Ginny thinks she knows what's needed; she opens her arms and lets Hermione fall into them, although it means getting bits of hair gel all over the threadbare red fabric of her robes. Hermione's lovely pink robes will be crushed, heaven knows what she'll do if she needs to where them again soon, although the house elves will probably clean it for her if she leaves it out...Ginny tries to think about this. But it's difficult because Ginny's never been this close to Hermione before and it's doing something funny to her heart, making it beat too fast. She can feel the muscles in Hermione's back contract with each sob, Hermione's chin pressed hard against Ginny's shoulder. Ginny has a small moment of triumph mixed with fear - Ron isn't here, not even Harry Potter is; It's Ginny Hermione needs now. It's Ginny who's come to find her.

When Hermione's sobs turn into hiccups, Ginny pulls away and wipes her damp palms on her robes, crossing her legs out in front of her.

"What happened?" Ginny asks.

"Oh, it's just Ron being an idiot again. I know he's your brother, sorry, but it's really getting too ridiculous," Hermione is rooting under her pillow to find a tissue. She extricates a bundle of greyish lumps and pulls at one, frustrated.

"Oh, don't worry, I agree," says Ginny, and is rewarded by a slight smile. "It's such a shame," she goes on, "you were having such a nice time with Victor!"

"I wasn't really having a nice time," Hermione confesses, blowing her nose.

"Really? But it looked nice. You were laughing," Ginny says, not adding, 'I know you were laughing. I couldn't stop watching you.'

"It's a common myth that laughter always indicates enjoyment," says Hermione, sounding much more confident to be back to facts. "Laughter can actually be a response to danger; it indicates submission and the desire for escape. That's why you only laugh when someone else is tickling you." Hermione blows her nose again, then continues, "Victor kept touching me. I told him to stop, but he wouldn't. He's like that. Very tactile. I thought I'd better leave before it got any worse."

"If Victor's bothering you, you should tell McGonogall. She'll be onto him like a ton of bricks, you know she will," Ginny scowls at Victor's audacity then adds, "Or I've been working on a nice hex. What do you say, him and Ron both?"

Hermione laughs and says, "Hexing your own brother. Ginny, where are your morals?"

"Gone," says Ginny lightly, "Flown away, never to return."

Hermione sighs and goes on, "Anyway, then Ron was sulking just because he couldn't be bothered to ask me to the ball himself first, instead of as a last resort. It's like he expects me to read his mind."

"Why do you care what Ron thinks?" Ginny is curious.

"Well, he's my friend! I'm sick of him fighting with me all the time. It's distracting and unnecessary. Surely it's not that unusual, to want one's friends to treat one with some respect?"

Ginny turns away, tracing the wood grain in the bedstead with a nail; it's really a very unusual grain, the same one that all the Hogwarts bedsteads seem to be built in. She says, "What wood is this? it looks just like mine. So it's not that you're upset because...it's not because you like him, then?"

Hermione drops her head and begins shredding the massacred tissue in her hand. "All the bedsteads are made of willow, hazel, and oak wood. It's in Hogwarts: a History. No, not in that way. Just as a friend. But we are friends! I'd never had friends before I came here; I don't want to lose them now. Besides, I don't think I actually...I don't think I actually like boys. In that way."

Hermione lifts her head and looks at Ginny like she's saying something important. Then she turns away.

"Oh." Ginny's heart, which had threatened to stop its heart attack staccato, immediately speeds up again. If Hermione turns her head now, thinks Ginny, I will kiss her. Just once, to make her feel better. Just once, or maybe forever.

Hermione turns her head.

Ginny leans forward and inexpertly places her lips on Hermione's, who instinctively kisses back, lifting a hand to cup Ginny's face. Ginny can see all the lines carving Hermione's face into pieces; she's close enough to see the tracks where the tears ran, half dry salt rivers. Hermione's eyes are wide open, pupils dilated; she looks afraid, and hungry. Once, in the library, Hermione explained muggle electricity to Ginny. How, when the circuit of conductors is connected, the light switches on. Ginny thinks that that's what this feels like - like electricity. Like a lightbulb going on. Then Hermione pushes her away, softly, retreating backwards over the bedspread until there's several inches between them. "Don't, Ginny. My nose is all blocked, I can't breathe."

"Oh, right. We could try again tomorrow?" Ginny looks at her hopefully. Please tomorrow, she thinks. Please kiss me again when you can breathe.

But Hermione is lifting her mind away, pretending she's forgotten about how hungry Ginny makes her; soul hungry, like she's lost something that can only be found inside Ginny's green eyes. Pretending to forget because she's good and she doesn't want be wrong; Hermione doesn't want to be like the couples her parents glare at when they walk down the street holding hands. She says, "Just don't, Ginny. Please. It's wrong."

"It's not!" Ginny is angry, the circuit broken.

"I don't want to do this now. Please. Please, Ginny." Hermione looks tired, and sad. Her curls are springing out of their neat hairstyle, adding to the frazzled appearance, and Ginny softens. It's time to let go, she decides. Until tomorrow, anyway. She slides off the bed and opens the bed curtains, says, "Okay. Bye, Hermione." Her feet sound harsh and too loud as she strikes the floor with her flat dress shoes. She doesn't want to walk away.

Hermione follows her to the door. "Ginny, we'll study tomorrow? The library, after supper?"

The simple statement makes Ginny feel immediately more hopeful. "Yes, please, if you don't mind. I can't get a hold of this giant rebellion stuff."

Hermione laughs softly, leaning forward to hug Ginny so quickly Ginny almost can't feel it. Almost. "I'll help. You'll get it."

As she walks away, backwards down the corridor, Ginny calls out, "Don't cry for Victor and Ron. They're not worth it." Then she turns and runs back to the ballroom. Poor Neville won't have anyone to dance with.


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self harm mention, stay safe angels.

It is cold in the library, and Ginny pulls her maroon Christmas sweater closer around her body. The colossal room filled with books both magical and mundane is sparsely populated today - this isn't surprising, as the Christmas holidays are not yet over. However, Hermione has convinced Ginny that now is the perfect time to 'gain a greater understanding of the way Giantish history has shaped Wizarding culture.' Given that this means spending several hours in an (almost) empty room with Hermione Granger, Ginny didn't need much convincing. 

"The unrest in the late 1700s to early 1800s is really what paved the way for the anti-giant legislation passed by the Wizengamot in 1809," Hermione is saying now, "Ironically, it was this legislation that led to -" 

The corner they're sitting in is well lit and silent, if not exactly warm: perfect for getting to grips with the difficult subject, but Ginny isn't listening. Wriggling uncomfortably on the hard-backed, spindle-legged library chair, Ginny watches Hermione's hands. When she talks, Hermione waves them and gestures emphatically, flicking her wrist at the most important points; she steeples the fingers in concentration, then splays her whole hands in a gesture of hopelessness towards the 1809 Wizengamot. It's odd, thinks Ginny, that we don't pay more attention to wrists. They're really very striking. The bone presses hard against Hermione's skin, giving an impression of hard won strength, not at odds with the force of her words. There is a dark freckle just above the wrist bone in her left hand. 

"Ginny, are you listening to me?" Hermione demands sternly. 

"100% with you," Ginny smiles innocently. 

Hermione sighs. "Good. Who was it who led the Giantish resistance of 1812, Wart or Gurk?" 

"Gurk." 

"Wart. This is important because later on -" 

"This is ridiculous!" Ginny interrupts her. 

Hermione appears unperturbed. "I know, it's horrible how we use these ugly anglicised names, when Giantish names are actually very noble when spoken in their original language." She waves her hand again, almost knocking the top book off the towering stack to her left. 

Ginny shakes her head, and starts talking before Hermione can launch into another lecture on Giantish oppression. She says, "Do you have selective amnesia or something? Something happened last night. We need to talk about it!" 

Hermioneis silent, which is all the encouragement Ginny needs to continue, "Look, I don't care about giant wars. You don't care about giant wars. Professor Binns doesn't care about giant wars. Shut up and kiss me again." This probably wasn't the wisest rejoinder, Ginny reflects, but Hermione is not looking at Ginny. 

"Giantish resistance," she says. 

"What?" says Ginny.

"According to some scholars, it's important to call it resistance, because it changes the discourse to one of oppression."

You're the resistant one, thinks Ginny, seeing how Hermione's face is taught and avoidant. Realising as she does so that she's mimicking Hermioen's previous action, Ginny waves a hand in the air. "Okay. Whatever. Can we please talk about last night?" Her voice rises an octave on the last few words. Madame Pince, passing their book covered corner with a trolley of ancient spell books, glares fiercely at them. Ginny winces an apology and leans towards Hermione again. "Last night, you said, 'I don't want to do this now.' Okay, fine, you were tired, I get it. But I want to 'do this' now." Her air quotations make Hermione smile in spite of herself - it's a movement only Ginny would make. Hermione swings the stack of books around to the other side of the round, three legged desk to shield the two of them partly from view. She leans forward against the table, matching Ginny's posture, arms folded across the table, closing her body off from the rest of the world in some semblance of emotional safety. 

"We'll do this now," she decides. 

Ginny feels relief flood through her. For a moment she'd been worried she'd dreamt the whole thing or something. She tips her head to the side, teasing now she knows Hermione's listening, "And I thought you'd never ask." 

Hermione smiles again, but it's tight and strained. Her hands are still and she seems unsure where to begin: this is uncharted territory and textbooks can't help her. "When you kissed me -" 

Ginny interrupts again: "When we kissed." 

"You kissed me, Ginny." 

Ginny shakes her head, seemingly determined but hoping she isn't wrong, "And you wanted me to. And you kissed back."

Hermione looks upset. "And I shouldn't have wanted you to." 

Ginny clenches her fists under the table, saddened by Hermione's upset, but frustrated, "But you did." There's a challenge in Ginny's voice now, and she says, "Go on, then, Hermione. Tell me you don't like me - the way I like you. See if you can do that." Seconds pass. A clock ticks somewhere. Madame Pince mutters ominously somewhere nearby. 

When Hermione speaks again, her voice is low and fierce, rising to Ginny's challenge, "I think I like you, Ginny, and I hate that you do this to me." 

Ginny watches the same sadness she'd seen last night sweep Hermione's face. A part of her wants to stop the conversation, to let Hermione keep talking about giant wars, if it will only make her look happy and safe again, but she steels herself: if they don't talk about this now, they might never do it. Ginny doesn't understand how this can make Hermione sad. 

"What's 'this?'" She asks. No air quotations this time - they do tend to reduce the gravity of a moment, she decides. 

"I hate how you make me think about you all the time. I imagine you in places you're not. I can't stop watching your red hair and when you stand in the sunlight strands of it glint gold. You're a fighter but you're kind and I can't stand how perfect that is." Hermione takes a deep breath, says, "In an advanced potion making book I read about Armortentia. It's a love potion and it smells different to everybody depending on what they love. The first thing I thought of was you." Then, head down, softly, "Your hair." 

The heart attack staccato feeling Ginny'd had last night is back, unsettling but not unpleasant. Her stomach feels fizzy and excited and afraid, her limbs jerky and hyperactive. If she'd been outside, she thinks she might have run and never stopped for the sheer joy of the movement. 

"How long...how long have you felt like this?" Ginny asks. 

Hermione locks eyes with her, her gaze fierce and almost angry as though she is saying - you started this. This is all your fault. 

She says, "Since I met you. The first part of that first year was so lonely, Ginny. I cried myself to sleep every night. The only things that kept me going until I made friends with Harry and Ron were my books and thinking that next year I'd see you again. Only a year and then I'll have a friend, I thought. And then you were Ron's sister so it was perfect in a way." 

Ginny has six brothers. She can't comprehend the loneliness Hermione's describing, but she can hear the pain. Unadulterated. A loneliness that still frightens her. All the emptiness it created. 

I'll never let you be lonely again, thinks Ginny. Out loud, she says, "I'm sorry it was so hard." 

Hermione shrugs and looks up, the swift bright smile Ginny remembers from the station platform four years ago lighting her face. "You're here now," she says and Ginny grins, half singing her next words, "And I'm not going anywhere..." 

Hermione glances back down at her open copy of A History of Wizards and their Magic, so old the binding is coming apart at the seams and threatening to spill out onto the hard oak table. She seems ready to move on, says, "So, I suppose now we've talked about that, we should really finish this chapter on Giants. You'll never learn it if you don't study." 

Ginny leans back awkwardly against the solidity of her chair with folded arms and rolls her eyes, says, "Hermione, I could not care less about Giants or history of magic right now if I tried. All I can think about right now if you." She raises her eyebrows in what she hopes is a flirtatious way. "And kissing you again." 

Hermione sidesteps this by whisper shrieking, "Ginevra Weasley!" in her best imitation of Mrs Weasley. 

"I will have silence in my library," Ginny booms in whispered version of Madame Pince. 

"I will have silence in my library!" Madame Pince rolls out, and both girls duck behind their pile of books, giggling, all seriousness temporarily broken. They hear the clock tick. Hermione pulls a spare scrap of parchment towards her and begins to score neat, vertical lines deeply into the soft white. As the lines cross the page, Hermione's face become more serious, the viciousness of the slashes increasing. She can't stop thinking about how wrong this is; what her parents would say. It isn't fair - Ginny is so pure (when Hermione thinks about what she knows about possession, how rare it is to come out as unscathed as Ginny...), so perfect: how can it be wrong to love her? Hermione wishes the ink lines were blood ones, drawn deep into her skin. She can't do that with other people there, though. Ginny looks at her, and the neatness and the violence of Hermione's simple action is mesmerising and disturbing. 

After what feels like several minutes, Hermione feels her watching and looks up, beginning her sentence at the same time as Ginny breaks the silence. 

"It feels wrong to - " 

"So what should we - " 

Hermione shakes her head, gesturing to Ginny, who continues. 

"What do we do now? Now that we know...now that we know how we both feel?" 

Hermione looks uncomfortable. "I don't know, Ginny." She jumps up and begins neatening her stack of books. "I'm glad we've talked about this, Ginny, but I really do have to go now. I promised Harry I'd help him with the clue for the next challenge." 

It's partly an excuse, but partly Hermione feels, like Ginny, that she'd like to stay here, in this cold library for a lot longer. That she'd like to keep talking to Ginny, if she could let herself. Partly an excuse, but also we know that Harry would be helpless without Hermione's help: if she doesn't leave now, it's doubtful that he'll survive to defeat Voldemort in book 7. 

Ginny nods and draws her knees up under her jumper, all the way to her chin. "I hope you figure it out tonight. He's been so out of sorts lately, maybe that would cheer him up."   
Hermione nods, too, hefting the stack of books onto her hip and curling an arm protectively around them, "You're right, although I think he's been less worried about the next challenge, and more about Cho Chang." 

Ginny laughs. "Thanks for the help. Although how I'm going to learn anything more about Giants without your help, I don't know." 

Hermione shakes her head as she walks away, "You three are all the same. If you'd read Hogwarts: A History, you'd know how Giantish history has shaped not only Wizarding culture but even Hogwarts itself. Night, Ginny." 

Ginny lifts a hand to wave, but Hermione's already gone. She springs to her feet and hurries through the rows of books to locate Madame Pince: Ginny has a book to find.


	3. chapter 3

_The air was pleasantly cool, the ground still damp under Ginny's boots from the early morning dew. From under her fringe, Ginny glanced sideways at Hermione, the peaceful sunlight dappling Hermione's face. She's so beautiful, Ginny thought. They were all going to the Quidditch world cup, on their way to the portkey with Ginny's dad striding along at the front of their small party. There is quiet, and little hurry now, although that's not quite how Ginny remembers it. When the tall, blond boy dropped out of a tree just ahead of them, nobody seemed surprised._

_"Hot," Ginny whispered to Hermione, who turned to her, laughing, and said, "Oh, you're hopeless, Ginny."_

_Somehow it seemed like only a second before they reached the portkey, and then they were touching it, a pulling, spinning sensation...and Ginny's whole world turned into faces, spinning, spinning..._

_Ginny woke up in the girls tent, glanced at the clock high up on the wall. One o'clock, still dark. She wondered what had woken her, then lay, silent and worshipful, listening to the soft hush hush of Hermione's breathing._

Ginny wakes, this time in her own bed at Hogwarts. Had she been having a dream, or a memory? Both, she thinks. It takes Ginny a few moments for the sunlight, dimmed by the bed curtains, to fully wake her. Suddenly, she remembers what she'd been doing last night; a grin spreads over her face and she sits up hurriedly, pushing the covers off and reaching for her dressing gown. She can't wait to tell Hermione what she's done - surely this will get her attention? Surely Hermione can't avoid her forever.

Ginny hears a soft 'thunk' as a heavy book slides to the ground. She bends and picks it up, beaming with satisfaction at the cover of Hogwarts: a History, the book she's finally finished. Granted, it's taken her several weeks, but it is a long book. She's surprised to find that she does really understand a lot more about Hogwarts, now. She dusts the cover and places it reverently back on her messy bed: a token, she thinks, a token to win a heart. She hums as she pulls on her black robe, slipping her arms into the wide sleeves and yanking it down over her hair. A quick brush until her hair lies flat, and then she's off, hurrying down and out the common room door to breakfast.

Sitting in History of Magic class beside her best friend, Colin Creevey, Ginny daydreams. It's not, she reflects, as though she really needs to win Hermione's love; their talk several weeks previous in the library had certainly ascertained that Hermione felt the same way about Ginny as Ginny felt about her. No, it was more getting Hermione to take the essential next step...and Hermione's been avoiding me lately, Ginny thinks, doodling hearts in the corner of her parchment. She can't tell if it's intentional or not, but it was only serving to galvanise Ginny to further action.

The dry, ghostly voice of Professor Binns breaks into Ginny's reverie. "Ah..ahem...does anyone know...that is can anyone tell me...who led the Giantish rebellion of 1812 which was the cause of so much trouble between wizards and...ahem... giants."

Ginny sticks her hand in the air, and Professor Binns points to her with every appearance of great surprise; students don't usually answer his questions. In fact, they tend not to listen to him at all.

"It was the giant Wart," Ginny says, enjoying the confounded looks on the faces of her classmates, accompanied by Professor Binns' blustering agreement.

**Later...**

Hermione and Ron are sitting at the main table in the Gryffindor common room, working on divination homework. Their bickering has become so excruciating that Harry has decided to go for a walk, and Hermione has to admit that she is finding it pretty exhausting herself; probably Ron is, too. I give up, she thinks, as Ron begins another attempt to argue with her about house elves. She stands and pushes all of her paper, quills, and textbooks into her arms in one sweep.

"I'm not going to stay here and argue with you any longer," she says with dignity, and the fire behind her seems to crackle higher with similar emotion. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Ron." Refusing to rise to Ron's mutinous muttering, Hermione stalks across the room, stopping when she sees Ginny watching her from a corner. Hermione's been trying to stay away from Ginny, but tonight all of her self resolve has dissolved; "Ginny," she calls across the room on impulse, "Would you come and help me with something? It's for S.P.E.W."

Ginny makes eye contact, searching for some sort of message in the comment. Then she nods, calls, "Yes, coming. Just a sec." She murmurs something to Colin Creevey, who is sitting beside her, then strides across the room, bundling half of Hermione's study supplies into her own arms. "Come on, then," she says, turning to make her way up the short flight of stairs to the girls' dormitories.

It's a sign, Ginny thinks, stomach churning in excitement, it's a sign that she's not really been avoiding me. "You do realise that I never actually joined your house elf crusade group, don't you?"

Ginny somehow manages to look graceful even while carrying a load of parchment and quills up a flight of stairs. Hermione realises the truth of this point at the same time as she realises that doesn't really have a S.P.E.W task for Ginny to do. She thinks about admitting this, but doesn't, cursing herself internally for her momentary weakness. What would your parents say? If they knew how you felt about Ginny? What you were thinking when you called to her just now?, she thinks, feeling slightly sick. "Well, I think you should join us," Hermione says as firmly as she can, "It's disgraceful the way we treat house elves. You should have seen Winky this morning when we went down the kitchens."

Her indignation returns her equilibrium, and she climbs onto her bed, dumping the pile of divination homework beside her. Ginny hops up beside her; Hermione tries not to think about how close they're sitting. So close they can hear each other breathing. If Hermione turned her head, she'd be able to see every one of Ginny's eyelashes; every brown fleck in her green irises. She moves to the end of the bed and lifts up one of the many books piled there, tossing another one to Ginny. "We're looking for any loopholes in the laws about house elves that would allow a house elf to free itself," she improvises, opening her book. "Failing that, anything that we could use to argue for governmental house elf representation."

Ginny crosses her legs and balances the tome on her knees, opening it to the first page. "Hermione, I don't think the house elves want to be free," she points out.

Hermione is convinced, "It's a miserable existence to be a slave; they only don't want to be free because wizards have taught them to think of themselves as lesser beings."

"Maybe, but I've met house elves and they're horrified at the thought of being free," Ginny argues. Something about Hermione's argument bothers her, but she's struggling to put it into words. "It's like, you're so worried about house elves themselves that you're not thinking about the whole system. How some wizard families have money and elves and things and other wizards don't. That's not fair either."

Hermione looks up from her book, interested. "You're talking about, what, not so much freedom as redistribution? Elves would still be slaves, Ginny."

"My mum could really do with a house elf," Ginny says, only half-joking.

Hermione returns to her book. "Your mum would probably be nice to a house elf. Not like all those horrible pure blood families."

"See, you see what I mean? Other people manage to be nice to house elves. It's as much a matter of blood discrimination as it about house elves." Ginny tries to clarify her point, which is difficult when she's not sure exactly what she means.

Hermione considers this point, then shakes her head, "I think it's a different issue. Slavery is till slavery, whether it's my pure bloods or muggle borns. House elves deserve to be free."

"Have you tried asking any elves what they want?" says Ginny, genuinely and unexpectedly interested in the conversation now.

"Of course not, all they'd say is 'we won't speak ill of the master,' or 'everything is very good for the Hogwarts house elves' or something and send each other frightened little glances."

"For somebody who wants to free house elves, you don't seem to care very much what they think about anything," Ginny points out.

"They'll be happy when we've won them good working conditions and fair pay. Think of Dobby," Hermione rebuts.

"So, what makes Dobby happy about that stuff when the other house elves aren't?" Ginny asks.

"Class consciousness?" Hermione suggests. Then she pushes her hair out of her face and thinks about it. "You know, I hadn't thought about it that way before. Maybe it's because Harry was so kind to him to start with; really respected him and saw him as an equal," she says.

Ginny nods, agreeing, "The ones that I've met get really happy if you say thanks, even. Show a bit of gratitude. My great aunt Muriel has a house elf, we spent a great afternoon throwing dungbombs at her door. Like friends, really, instead of me lecturing them all the time. They'll just get scared of you if you lecture at them."

"That's good, Ginny, really excellent!" Hermione burrows into her stack of parchment and emerges with a quill pen and pot of ink. Ginny hears her mutter, "Start with...respect...treat...as...equals," as she writes, then, "First...step...ask...house elves...about...working...conditions...utilise...shared...humour. Of course, if we can free them they'll really be equals. It'll make the process of representation a lot easier." She puts her pen down and beams at Ginny, who is delighted at Hermione's response to her comments.

Ginny decides this is a good time to tell Hermione what she's been saving all day. "Guess what?"

Hermione raises her eyebrows, says, 'What?"

"I read Hogwarts: a History."

Hermione begins to smile, a slow one that she is quick to clamp down on. In the four years she's been telling people to read the book, nobody ever actually has. "Really? I'm not sure if I should believe you."

"All true. All 563 pages of it," Ginny is grinning now. "And I actually think I learned some more about Hogwarts, even about Giants." It's true. She hadn't known before that Godric Gryffindor first came up with the idea of a magical school because he wanted a place to train a magical army, after his involvement in the Northern Marshes war against the Giantess Brug's tribe.

Hermione has an odd look on her face. I'm so tired of being ashamed of this, she thinks.

Then she leans forward and kisses Ginny full on the mouth.

There is: Brown eyes and green eyes. Safety and so much hunger and they are reflected, whole, in each other's bodies. Dark curls grasping red brilliance and twisting and running like a river until they can't see anymore and they're falling. They're falling. Hermione's soft hands and Ginny's, rough from broomsticks, and her skin catches against Hermione's cheek and she leaves it there. There is ink from Hermione's fingers smeared on Ginny's cheekbone and they think that this will never stop. They never want this to end. They are soul hungry. This is electricity.

When they pull away, Hermione brushes a curl behind her hair, cheeks flushed, shy and apprehensive. Ginny says quietly, "Again!" But Hermione shakes her head, says, "Stop."

The room is dark now, the only light emanating from their eyes, glimmers of hope in the darkness, and Hermione knows her roommates will be here to sleep very soon. She pulls the bed curtains close until they can't see out. Hermione lies back against the pillow and finds her wand. Says, "If you want to stay here tonight, you have to be quiet." Then, "Wait. Look." Then, " _Sidereus_."

As Ginny watches, Hermione casts stars on the tightly drawn fabric ceiling of the bed, the tip of her wand igniting with a harsh, white light, then each star arching high above their heads until it attaches itself to the fabric. They fade until their white brilliance turns to a golden glow, until they glimmer and gleam and shine, a night sky for just the two of them. Ginny counts 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. "Lie down so you can see them," whispers Hermione.

Ginny reaches across to touch Hermione's wand hand, grasping it so that they are lifting the wand together. "Help me," she whispers back, and Hermione says, again, very softly, " _Sidereus_." Our star, thinks Ginny. 22. She leans back against the soft white pillow, feels Hermione's hand tentatively stroke her hair. She's teaching me to be strong, thinks Ginny suddenly. And I'm teaching her to be brave. The stars don't stop shining, not even when Hermione falls asleep, head on Ginny's shoulder.


	4. chapter 4

_Hermione pushed aside the draperies concealing her bed from view._

_A small figure in a white nightdress stared up at her, mute appeal in her usually fierce eyes. "I can't stop remembering," Ginny said. "The worst part is, I can't remember half of it."_

"Ginny, you have to wake up," Hermione says, shaking the younger girl's shoulder. "It's time to get up, you can't miss your classes." Hermione is dressed already, having risen early. She's only come back to wake Ginny now that the other girls from this dormitory have left. Although Lavender and Parvarti both know that Hermione is close to the Weasleys, and would be unlikely to see Ginny's spending the night as anything other than sisterly, Hermione's not taking any chances.

Ginny stirs, rolling over and freeing her arms from their entanglement in the sheets. She yawns and smiles up at Hermione, who brushes a stray strand of Ginny's ginger hair away from her face.

"Feeling better this morning?" Hermione smiles at her.

Ginny nods, "Much."

"Breakfast's half over; you'd better hurry if you want to get to Potions on time," Hermione tells Ginny, who rolls her eyes but nevertheless climbs out of the bed.

"Wouldn't want to risk being late for dear Severus, now, would I?"

"No, you wouldn't," Hermione tells her, "You've got your exam today. I know you're only in third year, but exams still set the tone for your future OWLs and NEWTs."

"What do you have today?" Ginny watches Hermione make her bed, neatly stretching the sheets and tucking the corners in.

"I've got my History of Magic exam in an hour," Hermione tells her, brushing her hands briskly on her black robe and then attempting to pull her mop of hair into something resembling a ponytail. "Then there's nothing in the afternoon because everyone will be watching the third task."

Ginny sits down on the edge of the bed, saying, "Oh, yeah, that's tonight, isn't it?"

Hermione reaches for Ginny's wrists and pulls her back up. "Yes, so I'll see you then. Hurry up, Ginny, you really don't want to miss Potions."

_"Sometimes I'd be sitting in a class and everything would go black. I'd open my eyes and for a moment I'd think I was still in the class but then I'd see I wasn't." Ginny's voice was tired and ragged. The energy she'd needed the whole day to pretend nothing was wrong was gone, and she felt limp and floppy. It had been exactly a year since she'd been taken down into the Chamber of Secrets while possessed by Lord Voldemort and Ginny had gone to the one person she'd known would listen - Hermione._

_"Once, I had blood on my hands. I just wanted to scream and I opened my mouth but nothing would come out." Ginny laid her head back on the pillow, exhausted. "I went to the bathroom and washed it all off," she said._

_Hermione didn't pull out her wand. She could tell that Ginny wasn't in the mood for the quiet joy of watching stars come out; she needed to talk. It was a night for reliving frightening things in a place she knew was safe._

_"Tell me," said Hermione, and Ginny did._

Hermione sits at the table following a lunch of Cornish pasties, thinking about her exam. She thinks she's done alright on most of it - she'd checked and it was definitely Bleg the Blithering who was executed. She still isn't sure if it had been 1702 or 1707 that the first Goblin made sword had been reclaimed, though, and she hadn't been able to find it in any of her notes... She looks up as Harry Potter stands up and steps away from the table. "You're going then? Good luck!" she says.

"Yeah, I thought I would," Harry replies, grinning nervously at Hermione, Ron, Bill, and Mrs Weasley, the latter of whom have come to watch the challenge. Hermione bites her lip; she has complete faith in Harry, of course she does, but she won't pretend she isn't worried about this third task. So many people have died in previous tournaments, and if someone put Harry's name in the Goblet expressly so he'd get hurt, this is their last chance to make sure something happens to him. Her eyes follow Harry out the door, his figure dwarfed by the high doorway of the Great Hall, momentarily tuning out Ron's discussion of the latest Tornados Quidditch match with Bill.

She watches as Ginny passes him, stopping to wish him luck then walking over to the Gryffindor table, looking pleased.

"Mum! I didn't know you were coming," she says, hugging her mother tightly before plopping down in between Hermione and Ron. Her hand brushes Hermione's, although by accident or design Hermione isn't sure.

"Yes, we came to watch Harry, dear," says Mrs Weasley, "We didn't expect that those muggle relatives of his would turn up." She looks disapproving and increases the pace of her knitting.

"Nice to see you, little sister!" Ginny ducks away as Bill tries to ruffle her hair and Hermione watches with amusement as they complete a complicated secret handshake.

Ginny helps herself to a pasty and promptly joins in Ron and Bill's conversation. "If you're talking about the Tornados, you know they only won because they've got Blitheby. If someone hexes him or something before the next match, Puddlemere'll have an excellent chance of winning."

Several hours later all five of them - Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Bill, and Mrs Weasley - are walking down to the stadium, hoping to find good seats to watch the final task. The sun is beginning to set in the distance as they sit down and Hermione hopes that Harry won't have to compete in complete darkness. It will be alright as long as they start on time. She stands up again and leans out over the edge of the stadium, looking for a glimpse of the judges. Ginny watches her for a minute, Hermione's hair looking almost golden in the blaze of the early sunset. Hermione's knuckles glow white, gripped against the waist high wall, the tendons in her wrists looking dark and purple. The swell of Hermione's hips is sharp and angular and somehow beautiful.

Bill watches her watching, surprised by the look on Ginny's face. He hadn't realised she'd got so grown up; overwhelmed with tenderness by the mingled pride and want he can see in Ginny's eyes, he reaches out a hand, touching the back of her head lightly. Ginny is so entranced that she doesn't even protest.

Even after the task has started, Harry with a significant head start, there isn't a lot to watch. The maze is almost in darkness now, and even if it wasn't, the spectators can't see into the maze. It's a strange, incongruent evening, with a strange, incongruent group of people, gathered to watch something they can't even see. The half light and adrenaline makes everybody feel uninhibited and talkative; faces are blurred and voices high, some of them bordering on hysterical. Mrs Weasley looks out at the crowd with caution: it wouldn't take much to panic a crowd as excitable as this one, and it's a good idea to keep an eye that things don't get out of hand.

After the day is over, Ginny won't remember anything that they spoke about, but Hermione will. Hermione will remember every word, but most of all she'll remember Ginny's.

Amidst the random yells of the crowd (mostly in support of Cedrick Diggory, but with a substantial and heartening amount calling for Harry's triumph, and several for Fleur or Krum's), Bill tells them about curse breaking; he tells stories of sphinxes and Egypt and goblins that would make any non-magical person look disbelieving but is completely normal to the Weasleys; Hermione, standing against the balustrade with her back to the stadium, feels a sudden surge of pride in her adopted world: she's grateful to be magical. About half an hour after the challenge starts, the spectators' animated chatter dims in response to a firework of red sparks emanating from the left hand side of the maze. People begin to stand, looking over each other's shoulders to see who has been brought out of the labyrinth.

"Is it Harry?" Ginny is standing now, peering down into the half dark, looking for a sign.

"Nah, can't be. Harry'll win, he's got it in him," says Ron, and despite his assurances he sounds anxious. A whisper comes along the rows of people, carried from those closest to the ground. 'It's Fleur Delacour, it's Fleur, she's out of the running, it's the Delacour girl...' Collectively, the Hogwartian portion of the audience breathe a sigh of relief. The conversation rambles on, with Mrs Weasley watching them indulgently and knitting. Hermione attempts to nervily relive the day's exams, but Ron stamps on that quickly and even Ginny protests at reliving an hour spent with Snape. ("Professor Snape to you, dear," Mrs Weasley reproves).

At the sighting of a second lot of sparks, the audience visibly tightens, holding themselves in impatient anticipation for the revelation of the final two contestants. Lamps have been lit down on the lawn, and everybody sees as an unconscious Krum is carried from the maze. Ginny glances furtively at Hermione, gauging her reaction: it is concerned, but not upset. Ginny breathes again. There's a short disturbance because Karkaroff can't be found, but Krum is soon whisked away to a sick bed, alongside Fleur. The chatter begins again, perhaps a little more hushed now, a little more expectant. Ginny stands up and steps casually over to Hermione, who grips her hand; they're leaning against the balustrade, and in the shadow of the short overhang of the ledge, it's almost too dark for anyone to notice their fingers clasped around each other. Their hands, holding on. Ginny can feel the cold metal of Hermione's red and gold Gryffindor ring, smooth and cold and comforting. Bill looks, but does not say anything.

Restless and reckless, the three younger Weasleys and Hermione carry the conversation down a deeper path; "What did we even talk about?" Ginny will ask Hermione later, "I was so hyped about the challenge I can barely remember..." And Hermione will answer, "We talked about everything. We talked about the death eaters and whether there's truth in prophecy, we talked about what love means and Bill told us about the fabled room in Ministry. A whole room full of love. We talked about what happens when you die." The tone of the conversation has lightened considerably (in direct opposition to the sky, now almost pitch black) by the time a commotion arises from the maze.

"So then, the goblin goes, 'ere, Bill, this fellow a friend of yours?' And I look at him and go, nope, never seen him before. And that's when he sticks the carrot right up -" Bill is talking, but his voice, and Ron's accompanying guffaws, fade out as the crowd surges upwards, then quiets. At first, nobody is sure what they're seeing. It seems to be Harry, staggering under the weight of an injured Cedric, or maybe the other way around...? Which one is hurt, and how badly? The crowd strains, gasping and muttering, spreading rumours and ideas. Hermione and Rone exchange an anxious glance as the whispers reach their ears. Cedric's hurt, been stunned, there was a duel, must have been, Harry's hurt Cedric, Harry's injured Cedric, no, Harry's hurt, they're both injured, a sphinx, no, it was one of those giant banging things Hagrid's got...'

The anxious crowd doesn't need to wait very long. In the long silence of the audience's indrawn breath, they witness a lone figure, Amos Diggory, Cedric's father, run across the lawn. He looks almost comic, the one moving thing in the stillness. A tiny Harry is kneeling beside the prone figure of Cedric, lifting his arms, and Amos is kneeling. A silence, deep and quiet. Then Amos screams, a heart rending keening sound that fills the air, as though someone's cast a cruciatus curse on him. The keening doesn't end, and another figure comes flying down, across to Cedric. Now Dumbledore's there and somebody's pulling at the minuscule Harry, dragging him away. Somebody else begins to cry. A tall girl with black hair pushes past the spectators and makes her way onto the lawn.

Then a voice cries out, "It's you-know-who! He's back! The Potter boy says he's back!" The stillness of the crowd erupts into panic now, people moving and talking. A small group of Hufflepuff girls stand clustered, blank eyed and shocked looking. Mrs Weasley springs into action, says, "Ginny, no arguing, I want you and Ron to go back to the common room. You too, Hermione. Bill, you come with me, let's see what Dumbledore's needs. Ron, take your sister's hand now, come on, off you go, chop chop."

Ginny turns to find Ron, but the swirling, fast moving crowd has separated them. I'll just go back to the common room, thinks Ginny, there's nothing I can do here.

Nobody is entirely sure what to do, where to go, or what happened: the cheerful evening has turned into something alien, the encroaching darkness that was pleasant half an hour ago now seems, in hindsight, a warning of what was to come. Ginny elbows her way back towards the main building. She catches a glimpse of Hermione's face, and calls out, although she's afraid Hermione won't hear her in the crowd. Hermione disappears, then reappears a moment later beside Ginny. She catches hold of Ginny's elbow and says into her ear, "I'm going to find Harry. If you go back to the common room, we'll find you there later." She's gone again before Ginny has time to demand to come with her. Ginny squares her shoulders and makes her way through the masses of people. She'll wait for Hermione to come back.


	5. chapter 5

Dear Hermione,

Mum says do you want to come and stay with us soon. We are at the new headquarters of the order of the phoenix (can't tell you were, you'll find out when you come) and we have to clean the place so it's habitable; we could use your help, if your parents say its ok.

There's a horrible house elf called Kreacher for you to shout at us about.

Love, Ron

 

Dear Ron,

Thank you for your letter. I would love to come and stay; mum and dad say it's okay with them.

Will everyone be there? Ginny? Harry?

Since you can't tell me WHERE you are (I assume there's a secret keeper for the location?) perhaps your dad wouldn't mind picking me up?

Looking forward to seeing you all, hope you're enjoying your holidays!

Love, Hermione Granger

 

Hermione receives Ron's reply to this missive with a sigh of relief - Mr Weasley will pick her up in a week's time and take her to the new headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Although Hermione loves her parents, she's finding her time out of the magical world draining and frustrating; since Dumbledore confirmed Voldemort's return at the end of the last school year, Hermione's been itching to do something to help the fight against Voldemort, led by the newly reformed Order of the Phoenix. Of course, before leaving school Hermione had taken out as many books on Wizarding history as the librarian, Madame Pince, would allow and she's now thouroughly informed on Voldemort's rise and eventual fall from power. Still, it's not the same as actually doing something.

Hermione stands up from the table and goes to the sink, filling a small dish with water for Ron's tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, who hoots cheerfully in gratitude. Then she rummages in the bread bin until she finds the little owl some bread to eat, and throws a treat to Crookshanks, her cat, who is eyeing Pigwidgeon hungrily. She sits down again and slides the letters inside her open copy of _Entering the Unwritten Dimensions._

Of course, there is another reason why she's so keen to return to the Weasleys' home...namely, Ron's sister, Ginny, with whom Hermione had begun a tentative relationship the year before. They haven't been in contact since school finished, so Hermione's not entirely sure what will happen with Ginny. And then, there's the book. _Entering the Unwritten Dimensions_ has been bothering Hermione since she first borrowed it for some light holiday reading. The theories seem to be telling her something she really does not want to hear, and she's unsure whether to act on them.

Don't worry about that now, Hermione tells herself firmly. When you get to the headquarters there'll be someone to ask about it. It's probably nothing but an obsolete theory with no relevance to anything. Perhaps Remus Lupin, the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hermione has ever had, would drop in. She's sure he could explain it to her.

Hermione chews her lip, mind turning to her and Ron's other best friend, Harry Potter. 'Ginny's here (duh),' Ron has written in his reply, 'But Dumbledore wants Harry to stay with the muggles for now, dunno why. Lots of the order've been in and out, to, you'll see when you get here.' Hermione's concerned about Harry - his muggle family is a lot nastier than hers, and she knows how frustrating it is to be locked away from the magical world, with no real news. She just hopes he won't do anything stupid, like go off to find Voldemort on his own.

Hermione looks up and smiles as her mother comes into the kitchen, laptop computer cradled in one arm.

"What a cute little owl," Mrs Granger leans over and kisses the top of Hermione's head. "Love, your grandmother's dropping in later, go and put on a clean jumper, would you? Maybe that green one."

Hermione nods and stands up, watching her mother drop her laptop on the table and move to get a clean glass from the cupboard.

"Mum?" she asks. She's been wanting to ask this question since she got back from school, but always stopped herself. Her stomach flips as she steels herself for her mother's answer.

"Mm?"

'Will we get to see Uncle Steven these holidays?"

Mrs Granger stiffens slightly, but does not turn around from filling her glass at the water filter. "Love, you know we don't see Steven anymore. Not since he started going out with..." She lets the sentence hang, but Hermione finishes it silently: not since he started going out with a man. A man he's now partnered to.

Hermione slowly pivots on her heel and goes to find her green jumper.

**Several days later...**

Ginny is washing dishes in the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. It's not fair, she thinks. Fred and George could have done this by magic in 30 seconds, but no, Ginny has to wash them all by hand. Just because she'd said she was bored...! She pulls out the plug and wipes her soapy hands on the denim of her shorts, glancing anxiously at the clock. Dad should have been back with Hermione an hour ago; he's probably kept them there talking to Hermione's muggle parents for ages. Ginny turns back to the dishrack and picks up a tea towel, emblazoned with a violent floral pattern.

"Ginny."

The sound of Hermione's voice startles Ginny, who drops the plate she's drying as she jumps.

'Oh - sorry - here, I'll do it." Hermione strides across the room, pulling out her wand. She taps the plate, mutters "Reparo!' Still kneeling on the floor, she looks up at Ginny, who seems to have grown several inches since she's last seen her. For a moment, Hermione isn't in the kitchen of Grimmauld place; she's in the dormitory at Hogwarts where Ginny had first kissed her; the library, surrounded by books on Giantish resistance; lying in bed, stars shining above her. She blinks and stands up.

Ginny grins. "From 1-3, how many hours did Dad spend talking to the muggles?"

Hermione laughs. "Four. It's good to see you again."

They're saved from the awkwardness of deciding whether to kiss, hug, or back away, by the appearance of the Weasley twins, apparating with a loud crack into the middle of the kitchen.

"Hermione!" George exclaims, "Long time, no see." Soon, the kitchen is filled with chattering Weasleys, and Hermione can do no more than smile at Ginny across the room.

_"The Alexandria Paradox states that things become written in the fabric of time because they are created by humans; yet, humans can create only those things which are already written in the fabric of time...The creation of an event, relationship, or system which is not already written in the fabric of time can provoke changes on a huge scale; while these changes can be positive, negative, or neutral, they are, at least, not meant to have occurred and can alter major 'storylines' for multiple people...a useful rule of thumb is that if a relationship is HIDDEN or FORBIDDEN, it is not intended to have occurred; the universe is trying to right itself after unexpected attraction. Empirical research has shown that hidden/forbidden relationships cause negative (and often devastating) changes in large-scale storylines in 95% of cases...A useful example is that of the muggle play Romeo and Juliet, in which two characters cause multiple deaths (negative) and alter the course of the author's life, leading to his early death (negative) while changing the course of English literature (neutral), all because they chose to embark on a FORBIDDEN relationship..."_ Remus Lupin looks up from reading the passages Hermione Granger has marked in her book Entering the Unwritten Dimensions. He isn't quite sure why he's being asked to validate the research of Professor Emeritus, the author of the book, but from the anxious expression on Hermione's face he can tell it's important to her.

"Yes, it's a very interesting little book," Lupin says, handing it back to her.

"But is it right? What he says?" Hermione bites her lip, frowning down at the passages she's marked.

"Well, I'm sure you know that no theory is infallible. But yes, Hermione, this theory has been very well researched and tested. Professor Emeritus is a very well respected theorist in Magic and Time studies." Lupin watches her reaction; why is she so concerned with hidden relationships? She's always been an intense, bright girl; but sometimes it's the bright ones who need watching the most. Genius can create fragility. What is it about these passages that matters to her? Something clicks into place...a half-unnoticed pattern of glances, quick touches, half smiles across rooms. Of course. Ginny. He breathes out, knowing that his next words will be important to her. "Hermione, it's just a theory. An admirable one, but just a theory. You mustn't let it dictate your life."

Hermione looks at him, sharply. She wants to tell him everything, suddenly, ask him to make a judgement on what she should do. But his greying hair and the deep shadows under his eyes dissuade her. She shakes her head, almost imperceptably. Lupin places a fatherly hand on her shoulder as he leaves the room. "Don't worry so much about it, Hermione. It's just one theory."

Hermione thinks, I wish I was like you. For once I wish I lived in a world that's real and not constructed out of theories and books. Hermione's world feels full of dark and shadows, every step a pitfall, every word connected to a web that could create devastating changes. Because Hermione knows what she has to do now: her part, to stop Voldemort. She sits down at the piano stool beside her, trying to calm herself by running her hands over the milk and treacle keys. She presses down, hard, and a long, resounding hum echoes through the room.Tears fill her eyes. Blinking until she can see again, Hermione begins to play, a soft, gentle, heart rending song.

"Hermione?" Ginny stands in the doorway, hesitant, the music excluding her from Hermione's consciousness. She enters the room and pulls the door closed behind her, padding over and placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione leans over the piano and does not look up.

"You know what you haven't done since you got here?" Ginny's voice is soft, matching the rhythm of the music, but still playful. "What's that?" Go away, Ginny, thinks Hermione. I don't want to do this to you. "You haven't kissed me."

There's a pause, and then Hermione stands up, turning around to face Ginny looking almost angry. There's barely time for Ginny to notice the tears in the older girl's eyes before Hermione bends her, half backwards, over the piano. One hand grasping at her back, each vertabrae visible to Hermione's hands under the soft cotton of Ginny's t-shirt. The other hand at the back of her head, touching the hair that smells of strawberries. Ginny lifts her arms, gripping her hands into the knot of Hermione's hair. In violent haste, their lips meet. Tongues inside each other's mouths. They are the conductors of this song; the conductors which make the circuit to light the bulb. Passing the electricity hand to hand, mouth to mouth, body to body.

The door opens. They spring apart, to see Kingsley Shacklebolt backing out of the room, arms lifted in an apology. 'Ah - sorry," he says, with barely muffled laughter in his sonorous voice. "Sorry." He backs out, and they hear a sharp 'click' as he closes the door.

Ginny laughs nervously, slightly shaken by the intrusion. "We'll lock the door next time," she says, reaching for Hermione again.

But Hermione is standing apart from Ginny, head bent, so Ginny won't see the tears standing in her eyes. Her blurred shadow falls backwards, covering the piano, the light bulb above them dim and hazy. "There won't be a next time," she says, and her voice does not shake.

"What do you mean?" Ginny is confused.

"We can't do this anymore, Ginny." And her voice shakes only a little bit.

"What? Kingsley doesn't care," Ginny is bewildered by Hermione's rejection.

"No," is all Hermione can manage.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

Hermione nods, a tiny, jerky nod which hits Ginny across the face as though Hermione has slapped her. "Don't you want me any more?"

Hermione can't reply without breaking down, and the words echo inside the small room.

Don't you want me any more. Don't you want me any more. Don't you want me any more.

Ginny doesn't know what to say. Finally, she speaks. "Fine," she says, "Fine. You might like to know that Michael Corner asked me out last year. If you don't want me, I'll just go and ask him, shall I?"

When Hermione looks up, the plain relief sweeping her face hurts Ginny more than anything else she's said so far. "I really think that would be for the best, Ginny," Hermione says, and Ginny can't think what else to say. She is too shocked by the suddenness of this.

"Fine," Ginny says again. 'Fine." She walks away, slamming the door behind her with a bang.

As soon as she is gone, Hermione sinks down to the floor and sobs.

Hermione and Ginny are both distracted from their relationship woes by the news that Harry Potter has broken Wizarding law, been expelled and then suspended from Hogwarts, and will be arriving very soon.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione shakes her head at Ron, "I knew he was going to do something like this."

"Well, you can't really blame him," Ron manages, his mouth full of custard creams, "I'd do something mad, too, if I had to live with those muggles."

Hermione and Ginny are determinatedly not looking at one another, but Hermione is greatly cheered by the prospect of seeing her best friend again. Harry's arrival, subsequent shouting match, and then preparations for dinner keep them all occupied for several hours. Dinner is over and Ginny sits, cross legged on the floor, throwing butter beer corks into the air for Crookshanks to catch.

"Missed," she giggles, as one lands directly on Crookshanks' nose. She rolls one across the floor, watching Crookshanks hunt the rapidly moving cork. She feels, rather than sees, Hermione settle herself beside her.

"He loves it when you play with him," Hermione says, low so that Ginny can hear her under the chattering group still at the dinner table. Ginny doesn't reply; she's thinking about a piece of advice Hermione once gave to her: 'If you want Harry to notice you, you should start by acting a bit more like yourself around him...maybe go out with a few other boys. He'll come around.' Although Hermione's intended message was 'be yourself,' Ginny's major takeaway was 'make him jealous.' Either way, surely this strategy would work just as well on Hermione?

"Are we still friends?" Hermione sounds nervous.

Ginny makes her decision. "Of course," she says, smiling sideways at Hermione. She doesn't add, I don't think I could live if I wasn't speaking to you, but she thinks it. "Catch," Ginny says, throwing a cork to Hermione. They look up suddenly at the sound of Mrs Weasley's raised voice, then Harry's, demanding to know more about the Order, and promptly join in the argument.

Why do they treat me like I'm five years old? Ginny fumes, sitting on her bed in the dark, back against the wall, knees against chest. Everybody else gets to hear about the Order and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Everyone except Ginny.

Hermione creaks open the bedroom door and slips into the room. "Still awake?" she asks. "You didn't really think I'd be asleep, did you?"

Ginny uncurls herself and pulls down the blankets of her bed, climbing in. She's still bewildered by Hermione's earlier rejection, but feels much more kindly towards her friend now that she has a foolproof plan to win her back.

"No," Hermione says, pulling her shirt over her head and buttoning the flannel pyjama blouse with her back to Ginny, "But your mother said you might be." She sits down on the edge of her bed. "You didn't miss very much. Most of what they told us we knew anyway, about Voldemort coming back, and the Order fighting against him. They did say one knew thing, though: there's a weapon, that Voldemort wants. Something he didn't have last time. I got the picture that the Order's guarding it."

"What kind of weapon?" Ginny props herself up, elbow on her pillow. "They wouldn't tell us that part. Actually, I don't think we were supposed to hear about the weapon at all, it sort of slipped out." Hermione climbs into her own bed and pulls the covers up to her chin.

"What can we do? To help?" Ginny asks. Hermione sighs, "Well, they still won't let us join the Order. I think the best thing we can do is work really hard on our lessons, especially Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's not just school anymore, we have to prepare ourselves."

Ginny agrees. There is quiet in the room, then she asks, "Do you still love me?" There is no answer for so long that Ginny thinks Hermione must have fallen asleep. Ginny can hear her own heart, beating away. She imagines that it beats right out of her chest, a red muscle dripping blood, beating up into the air above her...with small white wings...

Finally, when Ginny is almost asleep, a quiet, fervent whisper emerges from the darkness. " _Yes_ ," says Hermione.


	6. chapter 6

_"I'm so sorry, Ginny, I should never have broken up with you," Hermione said. She and Ginny were standing on the keys of a giant piano, and every time they took a step they had to cover their ears to hide from the force of the sound._

_"I knew you'd change your mind," Ginny said, wrapping her arms around Hermione's neck._

_"Dance with me?" asked Hermione, and they danced on the keys, hand in hand, and the music was not so loud, suddenly, and a tune was emerging from their playing, and Ginny recognised Celestina Warbeck._

_"This is a terrible song," Ginny murmured, but Hermione did not reply. Hermione's lips tasted like salt under Ginny's tongue and she said so, licking up the salt with her tongue. When she looked down, Hermione had gone, and Ginny stood alone before a sand strewn desert. "Come back!" she said._

_And Harry Potter was there, speaking Parseltongue, and he said, "Dance with me. You have to."_

_Ginny didn't want to, but her feet wouldn't stop moving. "Stop," she said, and Harry replied, "I can't, I have to kill the Dark Lord. He killed my parents, you see."_

_Ginny thought they had been dancing for a long time (years maybe) when she finally made her feet stop moving. She crumpled to the floor, realising as she did so that her feet had turned to salt. "I told you this would happen," said Harry, looking very tall standing over her._

_"I want her back," Ginny told him. But he's gone and there's only shadows again, and a long, resounding note that gets louder and louder and doesn't stop, turning finally into the high pitched meow of a cat..._

Ginny wakes up to see Crookshanks meowing loudly as he scrabbled at the carriage door. It takes her a moment to orient herself. Across from her sit Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter, and beside her is Luna Lovegood, who is staring at Ginny with interest.

"You were dreaming," says Luna, "There might be a Nargle in here, they give you funny dreams sometimes," and she looks around hopefully.

Ginny shakes her head and stands up to remove Crookshanks from the doorway: Hermione and Ron are trying to get in, back from their first day of prefect duty.

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione takes her cat from Ginny's arms with a grateful look. She's trying her very best to see Ginny only as a friend these days, which is difficult, but, she feels, necessary. We all have to make sacrifices, she tells herself. And now, with Lord Voldemort back, is not the time to risk changing the fabric of time.

Ron flops down next to Harry. "I'm telling you, Hermione, that cat's mad. Mad and ugly, don't know how you stand having it around."

"Crookshanks is not an it, he's a he. And he's not mad or ugly, he's very clever," Hermione says with dignity. She strokes the cat and scratches him behind the ears affectionately.

Ginny leans her head back against the red plush of the seat. She loves the Hogwarts Express; even after three years at Hogwarts she can never quite believe that she gets to ride on it, all the way to Hogwarts. She listens the others conversing and laughing, and shuts her eyes, becoming drowsy again. Words come through her daze, ..."Malfoy"..."he's not..."..."it's cursed, I"... She opens her eyes with an effort, only to see Luna staring at her again. It's disconcerting, although Ginny has spent enough classes with Luna to know it's not unusual. Ginny looks across the small room to where Hermione is seated. Hermione looks quickly away: she'd been staring at Ginny, too. Ginny keeps her eyes on Hermione until she turns her head, looking straight at Ginny. Ginny wants to say something, tell Hermione that they're making a mistake, that she doesn't like Michael Corner at all, doesn't want him. But she knows that Hermione wouldn't forgive such a public declaration. If only they knew some sort of code...

"I'm so hungry," Ginny says, looking directly into Hermione's brown eyes.

"You had about five corned beef sandwiches an hour ago," Ron points out, but Ginny isn't listening. She's looking at Hermione. Hermione looks back, and she knows what Ginny is saying because she can feel it too: I am so hungry for you. I am so hungry to feel safe again and loved. I am so hungry for the one person who I can believe will never, ever leave me. I am tired of these empty places. She doesn't reply, dips her head to smooth a bur out of Crookshanks' fur, then lifts her head and focuses on Harry's face.

"We should get changed," Hermione instructs, "We're almost there."

As they join the crush of students moving out the doorway and off the train, Ginny feels a tap on her shoulder. Hermione is behind her, offering her Crookshnaks. "Would you take him for me?" she asks. Ginny nods, smiling, lifting the cat out of Hermione's grip.

"Hello," Ginny tells Crookshanks, holding him carefully behind the front paws and leaning forward until their noses touch, "Hello, you mad cat." From the corner of her eye she can see Hermione smiling at the scene. That's right, thinks Ginny, look at what you're missing. Don't you want a girlfriend who loves your cat as much as you do? She cradles the orange furred thing in her arms like a baby and steps into a space in the corridor, wriggling her way through the crowd until she emerges onto the platform. She looks around to see where the rest of her seat mates have got to, not noticing Luna until she's standing at Ginny's shoulder, Pigwidgeon's cage loosely in her arms.

"Shall we find a carriage?" Ginny asks, and Luna nods, her long, dirty blond hair swaying against her shoulders. They find an empty one near the front of the line and stand beside it, waiting for the others. Luna leans forward and gently strokes what appears to be empty space, but Ginny is too accustomed to Luna's odd behaviours to comment.

"It's nice that you're in love now," Luna comments conversationally, abandoning her cosseting of the air and returning to Ginny. "She seems like a good person, although she wasn't very kind about my father just now."

"I...what?" Ginny is nonplussed by Luna's statement.

"With Hermione Granger, you know," Luna explains, "Or didn't you? Daddy says he didn't even know he was in love with my mother at first, but personally I think I'd rather know than not."

Ginny is unsure how to answer this. On the one hand, she is very much in love with Hermione Granger, but on the other, there's always the chance that Luna will choose to repeat her comments in front of others, and Ginny is sure that Hermione wouldn't want this. She makes a noncommittal noise in her throat, then says, "Look, Luna, here they come now."

"Oh yes," Luna says vaguely, then, "Did you know I didn't even realise that auras go bright gold when you're in love? I must tell Daddy."

"How do you know that?" Ginny is curious despite herself.

"Oh, yours is, you see. And so is hers. Yours was pink before, you see." As they get into the carriage along with Harry, Neville, Ron, and Hermione, Ginny clutches Luna's final comment close to her. My aura is bright gold, she thinks, and so is Hermione's. We are in love, even if the only person who can see it is Loony Lovegood.


	7. chapter 7

Ginny is sitting on her bed, becoming increasingly desperate as she attempts to make a fountain of pure water shoot from the tip of her wand. 

"Augumenti! Augumenti! Augu - oh, I give up!" she says, hearing as she does so a hesitant knock on the dormitory door. The other girls are still down in the common room, so Ginny calls, "Come in, it's open. Oh, it's you, Hermione, why were you knocking?" Ginny is pleased that Hermione has come to find her; still, knocking on the bedroom door seems a step back from their earlier intimacy. 

"I don't know. It seemed polite," Hermione comes into the room and sits down on the edge of Ginny's bed, twisting the skirts of her robe in one hand. 

"Don't sit on the edge like that, climb up," Ginny settles herself cross legged on the pillow and Hermione clambers onto the bed, sitting down with her legs in a W pose a safe distance away from Ginny. "What did you think I was doing, snogging Michael?" Ginny asks. 

"You couldn't get Michael up here, the stairs wouldn't let him up," points out Hermione. 

Ginny shrugs and gives the fountain charm a last attempt, "Augumenti!" 

"It's not working because you're doing it at chest height. Augumenti is performed at waist height," Hermione informs her. "Half our class made the same mistake last year because it's hard to tell with Flitwick." 

Ginny stands up on her bed, flannel pajamas flaring from her hips. She tries again, "Augumenti!" and this time it works, unfortunately showering Hermione. 

"Sorry!" exclaims Ginny, nonetheless looking delighted. 

"Nevermind," Hermione finds her wand and uses a heat spell to dry her robes and hair. She smiles warmly at the younger girl, "Flitwick will be pleased." 

Ginny sits back down on the pillow, crossing her legs again. "So, did you just come to help me with my charms homework?" 

"No, I just thought you might like a chat." 

Ginny peers at her curiously. It seems a slightly odd request, but Ginny isn't arguing. "Okay. As long as we don't have to talk about Umbridge, I see enough of her in classes." 

"No Umbridge," now she's here, Hermione isn't sure what to talk about. 

"Did you see the latest The Prophet's published about Harry? Potter's tales are so ridiculous that one wonders if Potter has been confunded!" Ginny supplies. 

Hermione is relieved: The Daily Prophet is a safe topic. "It's just ridiculous. If only Harry had a chance to really tell his story. I could make Rita Skeeter write it, but The Prophet wouldn't publish it." 

Ginny sighs, "No, of course not. Changed their minds about Harry a bit, haven't they?" 

"I don't think the Prophet care at all about what it is they're saying. They just care about what's popular and last year The Boy Who Lived was selling papers, and now he's not. They needed a new angle." 

"True," Ginny nods. "Maybe I'll be a reporter one day. Tell all the stories the Wizarding world needs to hear." 

Hermione asks curiously, "Is that what you'd like to do when you leave here? Be a reporter?" 

Ginny shrugs. Usually she hugs her ambitions to herself (the possibility of ridicule from Fred and George is just too great), but she feels comfortable sharing them with Hermione. 

"Maybe. Actually, I think I'd quite like...I think I'd quite like to play Quidditch. Professionally, you know." 

"But you don't play Quidditch," points out Hermione. 

"I thought about trying out next time there's a vacancy. I'd like to play Chaser, I'd think I could be a good Seeker as well, I'm quite fast, but obviously there's no chance of that for the next couple of years." 

"Well," Hermione struggles to find something complimentary about a topic she knows very little about, "That's wonderful, Ginny. I think you'd do well, you have the right build for a Quidditch player." 

Ginny begins to laugh, "Hermione, I love you, but you know nothing about Quidditch." 

"No," admits Hermione. She is trying not to think about how much Ginny's casual I love you has made her heart race, "But, Ginny, I always thought that your brothers wouldn't let you play with them." 

"Oh, yes. Because my brothers' judgement has always stopped me before," Ginny replies sarcastically, "No, they used a regular padlock on the broom shed door, didn't even magic it shut. One of Mum's hairpins and -" she mimes unlocking. "I've been doing it since I was six. I got quite good, although of course it's difficult to practice on your own. If I want to be professional I'll need to put in a lot of practice."

Hermione nods, unsurprised by Ginny's deviousness. "You should tell Ron, I'm sure he could do with someone to practice with outside of the team practices." 

Ginny pulls a face, "He's better than he looks, really, it's just that he gets nervous and then he misses things." 

"He saved two last game." 

"Yes, but Hermione, one of those was a bludger." 

Hermione sighs, "I suppose with practice he'll improve." 

"I don't think McGonagall's happy, she likes us winning. Mostly because it annoys Snape, I think." 

Hermione looks anxious."That reminds me, I have my careers consultation with McGonagall in a couple of weeks. I do hope it goes alright, it's important to know what grades I'll need to get in the O.W.Ls, so I can start studying." 

"Why worry? You'll know you'll get Outstandings in all your subjects, you always do." 

Hermione looks even more anxious. "Not always! I'm averaging Exceeds Expectations in Potions, and the year we had Lupin I only got Exceeds Expectations for my Defense Against the Dark Arts exam." 

Ginny wisely changes the subject, gratified to see Hermione relax slightly,"What do you think you'd like to do when you finish, anyway?" 

"Well, partly it depends on Voldemort - oh, don't you flinch too, it's only a name - because obviously I'd like to help with the Order if he's not you know, gone, and that will take quite a bit of time I expect. Otherwise, I'm not sure, it would be good if I could do something with S.P.E.W, take it further..."

Ginny tries not to look sceptical about Hermione's S.P.E.W comment. "Will you tell McGonagall about wanting to help with the Order?" 

Hermione nods, "I think so, she's in it, she'll understand. Although at the rate we're going none of us will end up in the Order because we'll all graduate without ever having done a defensive spell. They're not quite the same as charms and potions, it's hard to learn them from a book." 

"I suppose we'll have to teach ourselves. In the holidays, maybe, some of the Order can help us if they're popping in and out..." 

"I suppose we will. Actually, Ginny, who know who could teach us? Harry, he's excellent at all the defense things." She wrestles with herself momentarily. "Actually, the year we had Lupin he did even better than me on the exam, he got an Outstanding." 

"Mm. He could make a ton of gold if he wanted, selling defense lessons in the holidays. He can make a Patronus and everything." 

Hermione's eyes light up and Ginny recognises the manic enthusiasm she associates with S.P.E.W. Hermione says, "That's an idea, Ginny. Although I don't see we'd even have to wait for the holidays, we could do it here, I'm sure we could." 

"Do what, exactly?" Ginny is cautious.

"Well, defense lessons, of course." Hermione waves her hand in dismissal of the idea. "We can think about that later. Anyway, how have you been lately?" 

Ginny shrugs, says, "Oh, you know. Better if Umbridge wasn't here. I'm spending a lot of time with Luna, actually."

"The Quibbler girl? She seemed a bit...well, odd." 

"Well she isn't! Her father's edits the Quibbler, of course she believes what he prints."

Hermione snorts, "So her whole family believes in Crumple-Horned Nargles or whatever ridiculous creature she's come up with? Next you'll tell me they believe in the Rotfang Conspiracy or something." 

"It's just Luna and her dad. Her mum died when she was nine. And they probably do think the Rotfang Conspiracy is fact, you know. Luna only believes things when there is no proof whatsoever for their existence." As she says this, Ginny remembers uncomfortably what Luna had said about auras, and knowing that Ginny and Hermione were in love. Did that mean there was no proof, that Luna was wrong? Ginny didn't want to believe that. She wanted Luna to be right; she wanted proof to pull from her sleeve and fling at Hermione, saying See? See? We should be together. Well done, Ginny, she tells herself, annoyed. You've just negated the only piece of actual evidence you have. 

Hermione is no longer listening. She puts a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. "I should go to bed, Ginny. Thanks for the talk." She slides off the mattress and walks toward the door. 

Ginny wants her to stop. "Hey, Hermione, remember that star charm you did?" she queries, "I think I know how to do it now, watch!" What she really wants to say is, Look, look at me, remember what we did and look, however her spoken words still have the desired effect of making Hermione turn around. Ginny slides off the bed and walks towards Hermione, stopping several feet away. She lifts a steady hand straight ahead of her, elbow unbent, wrist unshaken, murmurs, "Sidereus." Hermione watches in amazement as the star glows neon white, detaches itself and hangs, shining and gradually fading to gold, in the air between them.

This new thing, in the space between them. 

It's beautiful, thinks Hermione, it is miraculous. And she wants to meet Ginny's star with one of her own, glowing golden. Wants to whisper her own susseration, a charm to keep them safe. Wants to fold Ginny into her arms, cut a hole in time, step through and not come back. 

"It's lovely," she says briskly. Disappointingly. "Well done, that's a really difficult charm." She stifles another yawn and heads back for the door. "I'm so tired, I was up half last night knitting more elf hats. I really must go to bed." 

"Hermione?" calls Ginny again, halting her for a second time, "It's not wrong, you know. How we feel, it's not wrong." 

Hermione looks surprised by this comment. "Ginny - I -" she begins. Then she shakes her head and steps into the corridor. "Sleep well, Ginny." 

 

It's not wrong, you know...how we feel, it's not wrong...

It's several months later when Ginny's words come back to Hermione as she stands, staring out the window at the rain washed grounds. It's not wrong. How much Hermione wants to believe that, but she can't. Unless...well, unless their relationship is the one that's written, the one that's already constructed in the fabric of time. But hidden relationships are dangerous, that's what the book said. Hidden for a reason. Which is the right thing, leaving Ginny or finding her? Hermione leans her forehead briefly against the freezing glass, hoping it will make the pain in her head go away. Out of the corner of her eye she searches the common room for Ginny, but she's not there. Probably somewhere with Michael, snogging in some passageway. 

I want to find her and kiss in that passageway...

...Her hair under my hands...

...Her lips against mine...

...It's not wrong, you know...

...Changes can be positive, negative, or neutral, but at the very least are not intended to have occurred...

...No theory is infallible...

...The universe is trying to right itself after unexpected attraction...

...How we feel, it's not wrong...

...Her shoulder under my fingertips, her voice in my ear...

...Can alter major 'story lines' for multiple people...

Hermione, lost in thought and the pain in her head, becomes aware of Ron speaking to her. 

"...Up with you, Hermione?" he asks, looking at her curiously. 

"Just thinking..." Hermione lifts her forehead from the window, eyes following the raindrops dripping down the pane. 

"About Siri- Snuffles?" says Harry, and Hermione realises that this is what she should be thinking about. Of course she should be thinking about real, important things, not the way Ginny's hair smells like strawberries. Not that. Maybe this was what the book meant, the relationship distracting her from focusing on important life and death problems.

"No...not exactly...more...wondering...I suppose we're doing the right thing...I think...aren't we?" without thinking, Hermione replies honestly to Harry's question, then rights herself. Something important, she tells herself. Think about something that matters, maybe you'll be less of a sick freak if you defeat Voldemort. 

"I was just wondering if we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group," she says finally. With effort, she turns her mind away from the youngest Weasley and returns to Harry and Ron's conversation.


	8. chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a scene with self harm in this chapter, please stay safe angels.

_Hermione Granger pushes the skirts of her robe up above her knees, letting them lie in inky folds falling about her hips. She leans her aching head against the cool stone wall of the girls' bathroom cubicle, trying to shut out the fear and noise in her mind. She's going to fail her Charms exam, she just knows it, she's going to fail and they'll make her leave and what will she do if she can't finish studying at Hogwarts? She'll never see Ron or Harry again. Or Ginny. No, don't think about Ginny. Don't, don't, or you'll start thinking about whether hidden relationships are really that destructive and whether all the times they've kissed have already altered the written dimensions. And she's going to fail the Charms exam. She just wants to feel like she can breathe again._

_Hermione lifts her wand, draws a neat, straight line in the air above her right thigh. "Diffindo," she whispers, "diffindo, diffindo, diffindo, diffindo." Taking a deep breath, she feels her mind go still and calm as she watches thin red lines well up with crimson beads of dampness. Five perfect lines. Five lines to breathe through._

_Hermione pushes the skirts of her robe down again, letting the blood bleed invisibly into the black. Her hands used to shake when she did this, but they don't anymore._

_As she walks back down the staircase, half an hour early for her Charms exam but it doesn't matter - she can practice outside the hall - she feels a hand on her shoulder, dragging her out of the fast moving crowd of students and into a quiet spot sheltered by two tall posts._

_"Ginny," she says, expressionless. She doesn't want to be this pleased to see her. The cuts on her leg throb and sting, and she moves her hand abruptly, pinching a tent from her dress so the fabric doesn't stick._

_"The one and only," Ginny grins at her, reminding Hermione of another day, another moment._

_"I've got my Charms exam," Hermione tells her, voice still dull and flat._

_"I know. But I want to make a bet with you," Ginny replies._

_"A bet?"_

_Ginny leans close, whispering into Hermione's ear. "I bet you that something magical is going to happen. And if I win, I get to kiss you."_

_With a last mischievous grin, Ginny dances away before Hermione has time to object. It's later that day when they hear the fireworks erupt. Fred and George's amazing, magic farewell that lights up the castle with laughter and celebration, a fevered irreverent resistance. Hermione, unable to keep herself from smiling as she watches a fiery dragon chase Professor Umbridge thinks, Ginny was right. Something magical happened. As though summoned by Hermione's thoughts, Ginny appears beside her._

_"So do you agree? Is it magical enough?" she asks conversationally. Hermione is relieved enough by the success of her Charms exam that she can return Ginny's smile._

_"It's certainly magical," she agrees. Then, daringly, spurred on by the faint sting of the cuts on her leg which now manage to exhilarate rather than shame her, she says, "Are you going to claim your prize?"_

_"Of course," Ginny says lightly, leaning forward and brushing Hermione's cheek so softly with her lips that Hermione almost doesn't feel it. Almost. And she's gone again, leaving Hermione feeling curiously cheated._

Hermione opens her eyes, her entire body stiff and sore from the events of the previous night. She looks to her left, where Ginny lies curled kitten-like in the crook of Hermione's arm. She's still asleep. Hermione had been unable to sleep properly, choosing instead to play a mental movie reel of her relationship with Ginny Weasley - right from the first time they'd kissed, after the Yule Ball. She'd found her way to the end of fifth year before the torpor of the night had given way to wakefulness. She isn't ready for the day, yet. Hermione closes her eyes again, seeking another memory...

_As crystal shatters around them, Hermione dives out of the way, eyes desperately seeking Ginny as the death eaters chase them down the hall of prophecies._

_"Ginny!" she shouts, but it's lost in the echoing chamber. She catches a flash of red hair, sees Ginny with Luna Lovegood expertly skipping to the side of a curse. She'll be alright, thinks Hermione._

_The two of them in Mrs Weasley's kitchen, alone for once over the summer. They're trying to make lunch, but a horrible burning smell is coming from the oven._

_"Can you transfigure it?" Ginny asks hopefully, prodding at the lump of burned meat._

_"I don't know if even I could turn this into something edible," Hermione looks at it doubtfully._

_Ginny finds a knife, "Look, if we just cut off the burned bits -" she pushes the blade against the flesh and sees it bounce away, as though from rubber. They look at each other and burst into laughter._

_Ginny slides into the seat beside Hermione in Slughorn's office, smiling innocently across the table at the jovial professor. "I'm sorry I'm late, Professor!" she exclaims brightly. "I got caught up with Dean..."_

_Hermione feels a brief surge of jealousy which she quickly brushes away. She's the one who told Ginny to date other people, anyway._

_"Jealous?" she hears Ginny murmur as they spoon ice cream out of tall glass goblets._

_"Of course not. You're completely free to kiss whoever you like, Ginny," Hermione hisses back to her, aware that Ginny's hand has moved to Hermione's knee._

_"Who said I was kissing him?" Ginny smirks, "I think that bit was just your imagination, Hermione."_

_Hermione's stomach lurches. The words 'Freudian slip' spring to her mind as she removes Ginny's hand, glaring at her meaningfully. The smirk doesn't leave Ginny's lips, even as she turns away._

It's no good. There's too much daylight now, the memories lack their previous length and narrative. They're fragmented and they elude her. Hermione sighs, accepting the beginning of the new day. She looks down to see Ginny blinking sleepily up at her. They both almost smile, feeling a curious mix of grief and celebration. In a battle which will soon be immortalised and legendary, the Lord Voldemort has finally been defeated.

A fresh wave of grief hits Hermione as she thinks of the cost of the battle - of Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Lavender, classmates and friends and teachers, lying cold and dead, sheet covered on the floor. She grips Ginny's hand tightly, realising that she can't care, today, about what's written and what's not. She can't face not being with Ginny anymore.

"Be strong for me, love? We have to be strong, now," Hermione says gently, the word of endearment rising naturally and easily to her lips.

Ginny stands, pulling Hermione after her. "And you be brave for me. We have to be brave today," she says back, sounding as though her dreams have been full of the battle.

They walk into the great hall holding hands, parting when they see Mrs Weasley kneeling on the floor beside a sheet wrapped body that must be Fred. Mrs Weasley doesn't look as though she's moved since the previous night when she'd asked Hermione to take Ginny back to the dormitories so Ginny could sleep. Hermione had pulled Ginny carefully away from the crowd of keening Weasleys, but going back to dormitory had been unthinkable to both of them. They'd found shelter in the Transfiguration classroom, clinging to one another like shipwreck survivors.

Ginny wraps her arms around her mother, who hugs her back fiercely. Ron and George lie snoring nearby, purple shadows carved beneath their eyes, as though they have only just fallen into sleep. They are huddled close to one another, trying to fill the empty space between them just the right size for a third boy. Looking around the room, Hermione can see that someone has cleaned it, scoured the blood from the floor and laid the corpses out neatly, each one swathed in white. The only uncovered face is that of Voldemort, looking ill and very mortal in the pale sunlight streaming through broken windows. The death eaters lie with their master on the far side of the room; the Hogwarts dead are grouped, surrounded by grieving students and teachers. The broken glass has been swept up. It must have been the house elves who'd cleaned, and although normally Hermione would have been angry that they had had the extra work, today she is very grateful that she doesn't have to witness all the remnants of the carnage. She walks the rows of the dead, searching for Remus Lupin, unsure how she'll recognise him through the cloth.

As she stands, staring down at the faceless bodies, Hermione feels a bump at her elbow. It's Harry. They step close to each other, gleaning comfort from the touch of their bodies. "You did it," Hermione tells him.

"We did it," he replies wearily.

"What's going to happen now?"

"There'll be a funeral today. In the afternoon, after there's been time for people to get here." Harry kneels and gently uncovers the face of the closest corpse. The shadowed, painfully human visage of Remus Lupin stares back at them, glassy eyed. Hermione crouches beside Harry, leaning against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she says.

"I brought them here. It was my fault...if I hadn't come here..."

"If we hadn't come here the fight would have been somewhere else at another time, and the death toll might have been even worse," Hermione says. "Voldemort should have known better than to challenge you at Hogwarts. He thought he'd win, because it was his home, a good luck charm. But he was wrong, because it was our home too. Because it protected us."

They are silent for a moment, thinking. Harry leans across Lupin, unwrapping the face and arm of the next person, Tonks. A smile lingers gently on her lips, her face topped with spikes of bubble gum pink hair.

"It's the right face," says Hermione, hoping Harry will understand what she means. He manoeuvres Tonks' hand until the stiff cold limb lies heavily atop Lupin's. He doesn't flinch from the sight of the deadness.

"It is," he replies, knowing what she means. They remain where they are, coldness seeping into their knees from the stone floor. They both wipe tears, discreetly, from the corners of their eyes.

"Dumbledore was right," says Hermione finally as they rise, "We won because we looked after each other. Because we loved each other. Love is the best protection anyone could hope for, and Voldemort was a fool not to understand that."

The sun streams in shattered tatters through a high broken window above them. Ginny comes to stand with them, wrapping her fingers tightly around Hermione's so they are intertwined, shoulder to shoulder.

"Come for a walk with me, Ginny?" Harry asks her. He doesn't seem to have noticed the hands, or the quick glance that the two girls trade between them. Ginny thinks about this offer. She knows what agreeing to come for a walk with Harry Potter will mean: that they're dating. Does she want that? Hermione hasn't actually suggested that she and Ginny are together in any concrete sense. And Ginny still thinks Harry's attractive: with his dark hair and those bright green eyes. The girl who dated Harry Potter would be a hero's girlfriend, and Ginny thinks she could handle the role of hero's girlfriend quite well. But, I loved Harry Potter, thinks Ginny, past tense. And I love Hermione, present tense. The knees of Ginny's trousers are torn, grazed. Her face is scarred and shadowed. She can't think of anything she wants more right now than Hermione's soothing, sure presence. Hermione looks at the fragile boned, iron strong woman standing beside her; she waits for Ginny's answer. Ginny feels her eyes fill with a new wave of tears as she looks down at the couple lying, uncovered, on the ground before them. She tips her head, laying it against Hermione's comforting shoulder.

"No, I don't think I'll come for a walk, thanks," Ginny tells Harry, "I think I'll stay here with Hermione."


End file.
